Beautiful Thieves
by mutemockingjay
Summary: RvB- In the smoke and chaos of a post war city a pair of beautiful thieves lurk- unlikely partners in crime, running away from Command, their demons, the world they had grown to hate. Little do they know that their actions will be their biggest downfall.
1. Prologue Beautiful Thieves

**A/N: This is the consequences of insomnia and the AFI album Crash Love, introduced to me by my love internet twinsie, Cass. This is a divergent universe fic- a what if continuing after Recovery One. What is South had not shot wash in the back, and both had escaped the Meta?**

**Anyways, enjoy and reviews are love.  
**

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The city itself was dusted in the coal and sorrow, its inhabitants bent over from the chaos of a post war world, hope long gone on the wind, unlikely to ever come back.

Two figures moved slowly in the growing darkness, the last lights of dusk illuminating them as they ducked behind a building corner.

Grey and violet.

Whispers that could only be heard if one listened carefully.

"Fuck it, Wash, stop pulling me!"

"Do you want to get lost, then? Not much of a problem for me…"

The grey one strode away, head held high, and the violet one hung its head, sighing heavily before catching up.

"Fucking douche…" The violet muttered.

"That's what I thought." The grey one again, smug and overconfident.

"Just shut up and lead the way."

Darkness covered the city in its smothering fog; the sky too dense with pollution to show even the slightest twinkling of a star, even the smallest sign of life crushed under a heavy hand.

With a single streetlamp sputtered its dying breaths the pair approached an abandoned brick building, ornate with a gothic cupola; deadly yet beautiful, bearing its fair share of battle wounds.

The grey one knocked three times in rapid succession, leaning in and whispering a word so softly it was lost to the howling wind.

The door opened and both slipped in, a pair of beautiful thieves on their way to the downfall of themselves and the only world they had ever known.

---

In the first few rays of dawn, the pink in the sky tainted red with bleeding hearts, the Meta moved ever so closer.

He knew where they were.

And he knew exactly what to do to stop them.


	2. Running from Death

**A/N: My general rule of thumb is not to upload a new chapter in any long fics without finishing the one that follows (i.e. chapter two). I have yet to finish chapter two, but I just feel like such complete shit right now and probably won't finish said second chapter anytime soon, so I figured, fuck it, might as well post this one. **

**I probably won't write a for a little while, actually. I normally use it to let out my feelings, but mine are so fucked up right now I can't even do that. **

**Either way, even thought this chapter is somewhat short- the second one will be longer-enjoy. Reviews and crit are love~  
**

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"_Look, Wash!"_

_She was giggling like a four year old, curls flying, barefoot as she ran towards him, cupping a tiny purple butterfly in her hands. _

_There was something in her simple happiness that made his heart turn over; before he knew what he was doing he was kissing her, whispering softly into her ear, "I love you."_

----

She was running on pure adrenaline, pain gone as she grabbed Wash's hand pulled him towards the ship, close to laughing with relief and pure giddiness- the thrill of being bad, of escaping death once again.

It was a high better than any drug, the high of running away from everyone and everything she had ever known-except for him.

No matter how hard she tried she could never escape him, whether it was in person or in mere thoughts.

Yet another way that bastard had the upper hand.

Though, at the moment, she could feel the rush of power she had craved for so many years, the sense of being in control of her own destiny, liberation almost like drunkenness.

She figured it would hit her later- the physical pain as well as the mental; the things they were running from eventually catching up to them, but she stopped giving a shit a long, long time ago.

"Agent South, I am sure the Meta will only be able to catch up to us later; running away is a short term and ineffective solution."

"You don't think I know that, Delta?" She snapped at the green figure who shared her helmet, and unfortunately, her thoughts.

"Your feelings for Agent Washington are hardly rational, South. It is sure to get us into danger at some point or another."

"Shut up, Delta." South growled between her teeth.

"I advise turning this ship around and heading straight back to Command headquarters."

"I advise you shut your goddamn mouth once in a while."

Delta disappeared at once; her provocation having its intended effects.

Wash removed his helmet, breathing heavily and grimacing as blood ran down his arm between the plates of armor.

As much as she wished it didn't she could feel the concern welling up in her heart, the tenderness she had tried so hard to box up and shove into an overstuffed closet of emotions she could not let herself feel.

_Fuck him for doing that to her._

Still, she had enough control over herself not to speak her thoughts. Or so she thought.

"I'm, uh, sorry, for, um…"

_Fuck him twice for making her incoherent, babbling like a teenage girl._

He didn't reply, using his good arm to fumble through a box of scattered supplies on the floor, tossing out the obsolete ones.

A copy of the Freelancer's handbook.

A Phillips' head screwdriver.

A defective grenade.

A copy of some porn magazine, obviously belonging to the former occupants of this space.

Condoms, the packet hitting South in the visor, straight in her line of vision.

_Him kissing her furiously, unable to stop himself anymore, running his hands along her thighs, torso, up to her breasts as he unhooked her bra…_

She shook her head. Not this. Not now. Not ever.

"South, such actions, protocol violations aside…"

South sighed, wishing she could bang her head against the wall. Fuck this AI thing. Sharing her mind with someone else was sure as Hell not what it was cracked up to be.

Wash uncovered the bandages at the same time she did, his hand on top of hers in the ultimate romantic cliché.

And damnit, she still felt something, even at his slightest touch.

"Let me do it," she said softly, unwrapping the white cloth.

He shook his head, his messy brown hair falling in his eyes. "No. It's fine," he replied coldly, as if she did not exist, a mere annoying bug that was about to be crushed under a shoe.

She hated herself even more for being hurt.

---

Wash was used to pain- physical and emotional. So the gunshot wounds on his arm were no big deal, as far as he was concerned.

What he wasn't used to, however, was that old feeling come rushing back, something he thought he would never feel again. He figured his heart was as lifeless and cold as his armor, and the consensus from the general population seemed to prove that sentiment.

From the way she glanced at him over her shoulder, her gruff replies and wisecracking aside, he knew that she was the exception to the well established rule.

And, damn it all to Hell, he felt the same way.

---

"Do you even know where we are going?" South snapped, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Yes, I do," Wash replied, taking control of the various devices on the ship's main panel, "Now shut the hell up and drive."


End file.
